


Fashion Week

by Dream_Wreaver



Series: Gabriel Appreciation Week 2018 [3]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fashion Week, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Promises
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-23
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2019-03-08 15:55:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13461555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dream_Wreaver/pseuds/Dream_Wreaver
Summary: Memories bring pain, but sometimes they bring happiness. What will this year's Fashion Week bring?





	Fashion Week

**Author's Note:**

> Gabriel Appreciation Week Day 3- Fashion Week. I couldn't do something simple, could I?

He stood as rigid as a statue, looking at the clothes as they stood lifeless on the mannequins. He felt like that. Stuck, posed, forced to show off the creation of another. His designs, his art, it had suffered. The clothes were brilliantly crafted, as always, but they lacked the spark of his earlier work. At what point had his enthusiasm faded?

“Sir?” she broke the silence of his inner musings, looking at the figures as they stood arranged. Her grip on her tablet -her electronic lifeline- was tense, as though she expected him to lash out. Well, it wasn’t as if her reaction was unwarranted. He’d done something similar in years past. Years, how long had it been? How constant his own failure?

“It doesn’t get any easier, does it Nathalie?” Gabriel asked her.

“Pardon sir, I’m not quite sure what you mean.” she did and they both knew it. But her feigned ignorance was a way to allow him confiding in her without it coming across as unprofessional. They disguised their pain through cold facades and metaphorical conversations.

“Fashion Week,” Gabriel elaborated, “Do you ever feel you’re losing your touch when you see all of these up and coming designers debuting?”

“I could say the same for the larger houses, sir,” Nathalie responded, “Goodness knows the heads rarely do the designing themselves anymore.” she could have added that a good portion of them had different heads than the design. Due to death, most of the time. But they were the ones who had time on their side. Gabriel had built his own fashion empire in one lifetime, it was her job to keep that empire from crumbling.

But it wasn’t the houses they were talking about. He was worried, continual failure at a goal would shake even the strongest person’s self-confidence, especially when it seemed the instances yielded less and less almost-successes with each attempt.

“I see,” he remarked without fanfare, “What do you think of them?”

“I think that I am an entirely too simplistic-minded person to offer a response,” Nathalie favored simplistic styles and colors, ones that appealed to far wider of an audience. She prefered singular colors on a garment, preferred dark colors most of all. These designs, while not bad at all (Gabriel had come so far for a reason after all) were not exactly something Nathalie could ever see herself wearing, thus, she didn’t think they were appealing.

“You’ve spent enough time in my employ to know what looks good, give me an answer.”

“They do not suit my tastes,” Nathalie responded measuredly, “But from an objective standpoint, they are incredibly solid designs sir.”

“Wonderful,” Gabriel bemoaned, with more pomp than was actually felt, “I spend hours upon hours toiling over my designs and the best they can be is solid.”

“That’s the stress talking,” Nathalie assured him. Which stress it was, she didn’t say, “I suppose that Fashion Week, as with any looming deadline, doesn’t get any easier. But then, isn’t it easier when you’re a nobody? No one has seen your success so no one has any expectations of you. It’s when you’ve already shown you’re good that the pressure comes, don’t you think? Year after year you constantly need to prove you still have what it takes, and the longer you’re there the worse it gets. Because if you don’t, you’ll fade quietly into the ether of oblivion.” she spoke with no inflection of personal connection or emotion in regards to the topic. As always, it was the cold, hard facts, “But I take it there’s something more to your fear, something that has very little to do with how your designs will be received.”

“You know me too well,” the response was a bitter breath of laughter, as though the fact that she was so intuitive when it came to him angered him.

“I suppose if I didn’t I wouldn’t be very good at my job now would I?” she parried, “You do recall I signed an NDA when I accepted my position as your assistant right?”

“Of course,” Gabriel replied, “It’s for the protection of the company. Anyone who doesn’t insist on such a document for such a high-profile position is a fool.”

“Well, shall I tell you that I do not need an NDA if you wish to confide in me?”

He looked at her. She blinked, face as impassive as ever, “Tell me what it is.”

“I want to say you’ll think I’m foolish,” Gabriel told her, “But you would see right through an excuse that flimsy wouldn’t you?”

“I’ve been around you too long I suppose,” Nathalie shrugged, “It’s okay to let someone else in, you know. Keeping it to yourself isn’t healthy, for you or the business.”

“Is  _ that _ why there were several business cards for therapists scattered among my documents?”

“I know you will not do anything you do not wish to,” Nathalie replied, “However, I know when not to overstep my bounds as your assistant. And since you do not wish to see a therapist- perhaps I can be of some assistance?”

“You already know the story,” he pushed her off.

“That doesn’t mean you don’t need to regale it once more,” Nathalie countered, “Tell me. Tell me about it.”

“It was my first Fashion Week,” Gabriel intoned, in much the same manner as one might hear a narrator say, “Once Upon a Time,”. His posture relaxed, and with every word that dripped forth there was a physical sense of catharsis, of healing. Nathalie knew that, just as it did every year since the incident, the relief would only be temporary. But was fleeting solace not better than constant anguish?

Gabriel continued to speak even as Nathalie guided him to a chair. He spoke of the nervousness of a novice at their first big show. His chance to make his mark, his worry that his designs would be found lacking, and the self-doubt that had once gripped him like a predator with a bloodied prey. And then, he had seen her. She’d been granted a backstage pass, and had been so excited to be there. As such she had seen his designs before anyone else. She had thought them amazing, she had thought them incredible, she had thought them worthy. And he had in her found his confidence again.

As far as meet-cute stories went, it was barely passable. But Gabriel often told stories better with his hands than with his words. Nathalie wondered what creations might spring forth if he ever tried to design while in such a state. But she was just his assistant, she could not press him. Still, she could be there for him. When Madame could not. She owed the lady of the house that much. The promise Nathalie had secretly made when she herself had been nervous.

_ “Nathalie,” a woman’s voice had caught her off guard. She’d already made a mistake, dropping the papers. She’d worked as an executive assistant before, but none of her previous employers had been such sticklers for perfection as this one. It made her doubt her own abilities, second guess whether or not this should have been the profession she chose. _

_ “You’re Nathalie right?” Nathalie looked up to find the lady of the house, belly swollen and rounded with child. Wordlessly she had nodded, blinded as always by the brilliance that was Madame Agreste. Her trance was only broken when said Madame stooped down to help Nathalie clean the scattered files off the mansion’s floor. _

_ “Wait please!” Nathalie had halted the woman’s hands, “That’s my job, you really shouldn’t-” _

_ “Nonsense,” she had laughed, “You’re going to be working very closely with us. That means you’re like family, and family should always help each other out, don’t you think?” _

_ Not wanting to anger the only other person with the power to have her arbitrarily fired Nathalie nodded mutely. _

_ “Then I will help you here. And I suspect you will be helping me a lot more in the future,” they stood and the Madame warmly rubbed a hand over her stomach, “Especially when this little one gets here.” _

_ “I- of course madame,” Nathalie deferred, “If that is what you need of me.” _

_ “I’ll be needing a great deal from you,” the other woman laughed, “I know how my husband gets, and it would be nice to see him before midnight every once in a while. See if you can do that for me?” _

_ “Yes Madame,” Nathalie nodded, “I’ll do my best.” _

_ “And one more thing,” the assistant’s wrist had been grabbed before she could scurry back to the den of ice that was her employer’s office. Nathalie looked back at the pregnant woman, unsure of what else she could request, “Nathalie,” she began, “Life can be so unpredictable, don’t you think?” _

_ “Of course Madame,” Nathalie affirmed. _

_ “I thought so.” the hand holding her wrist tugged her closer. Two warm and delicate hands clasped over her own, much in the same manner a bosom friend might when asking an important favor, “I need you to promise me something Nathalie.” _

_ “Yes?” _

_ “Promise me, promise me that if anything happens to me, you’ll be there. You’ll take care of them for me.” _

_ “Madame I could never hope to replace-” _

_ “I’m not asking you to do that. I know you would never dare try to usurp me, not like some of your competition had been angling for,” she shook her head and chuckled, “I just know I can trust you with this. That given time and guidance you can be exactly what they need if I- If I can’t be there. Please Nathalie, promise me you’ll be there.” _

_ “I- I-” Nathalie was certain that if she’d caught sight of her reflection she’d be gaping like a fish. But the Madame’s pleading expression booked no room for anything but accordance, “I promise Madame.” _

_ “You do?” _

_ “You have my word. If something happens, if you can’t- I’ll be there. I promise.” _

And Nathalie intended to live up to her word. Gabriel had finished telling his story, and despite how many times she had heard it, Nathalie continued to listen. She would not dare to usurp the madame’s place, firmly believed that there was no one capable of doing such. But she could be there, she could be there when she was needed. No judgements, no hesitations, no regrets. Until the day that Madame came home, Nathalie would be there.

“Sir?” Nathalie inquired quietly, playing the devil’s advocate as she put a hand on his shoulder. He was staring at the portrait of her, always searching, always seeking, always failing it would seem.

“Hm?”

“If it brings you such pain to do this, year after year, why do you continue?”

She knew the answer, she knew them all and she knew them well. And she knew that first he would try to bury the response that came from the heart he liked to pretend he no longer had.

“It would be very poor for business if my company skipped out.”

And now she would poke the hole, “But you have plenty of in-house artists who would be willing to debut under your label for their first show.”

He was silent at that. It was the same song and dance as it had been, as it was likely to continue. And then he broke. The truth, vulnerable but freeing, was like a whisper in the silent air.

“She wouldn’t have wanted that.”

She wouldn’t have wanted that. Nathalie knew, Gabriel knew. And they played to the whims of a ghost, alive or dead. One day, Nathalie hoped the chains might be broken, by good or bad fortune she cared not. But until then, Fashion Week would come, and history would repeat, over and over again.

**Author's Note:**

> What did you think? Leave me a comment and let me know. Until next time


End file.
